


What You Are to Me

by Nopride4531



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, Brynjolf being Brynjolf, Drabble, F/M, Feelings Realization, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Thieves Guild, but i may or may not write more of this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-12-01 11:32:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11485530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nopride4531/pseuds/Nopride4531
Summary: After finding out that the woman he loves is the legendary Dragonborn, Brynjolf finds himself pushing her away. Thankfully, his friends are there to set him straight.





	1. Chapter 1

“You’re a rotten liar, Bryn.” Sapphire’s tone clearly displayed her displeasure. “When were you gonna tell us about this?”

“Soon enough,” he muttered, glancing down at the murky water of the cistern. His reflection—broken in the rippled water—stared back at him, unrelenting in its accusations. “But it wasn’t my place… still isn’t.”

“You’re the closest friend she has,” Delvin said as he drummed his filthy fingers against the wood of Mercer’s desk.

“ _Friend…_ ” Brynjolf finally raised his eyes from the water back to his fellow thieves. “I don’t think she feels the same way…”

“And who’s fault is that?”

Everyone turned to see Vex striding into the cistern from the Ragged Flagon, arms folded irritably across her chest as she went straight to Brynjolf. Murder flashed in her gaze, though all of them knew she wouldn’t lift a finger toward him. Vex respected Bryn too much for that. After all, he had saved her life on more than one occasion.  

“Don’t push it, Vex,” he growled, squaring his shoulders. He didn’t need her attitude right now— _especially_ not after everything that had happened.

Vex rolled her eyes. “ _You’re_ the one that’s been pushing, Bryn. Ever since that little sweep job you two did together, you’ve been ‘pushing’ her away.”

“ _She_ didn’t talk to _me!”_

“Because you _avoided_ her!” Vex uncrossed her arms to poke an accusing finger into his chest. “What the hell was she _supposed_ to do? Laugh it off and pretend that everything was fine? Everything _wasn’t_ fine, Brynjolf!”

He curled his lip into a sneer. “That doesn’t give her the right to lie.”

“Vex’s actually got a point, Bryn,” Delvin finally spoke up as he stopped tapping his fingers against the table. “You _did_ ignore her. That’s probably why she didn’t tell the bloody truth in the first place.”

“So what if she’s the Dragonborn?” Sapphire asked, rising from her chair. “She’s still the same Colrina. Did you forget everything she’s done for us? She _found my father_ when there was nothing in it for her! And now you’re suddenly ready to let her go?”

“Colrina _needs_ us, Brynjolf.” Rune stepped out of the shadows. “More importantly, she needs _you._ Now are you gonna go after her? Or are you gonna prove to her that you really _don’t_ care?”

It was that last comment that sent Brynjolf flying over the edge. With a howl, he turned and slammed his fist into the wall of the cistern, hardly caring when his skin scraped off and left his knuckles bloody. Breathing heavily, he whirled around to face his companions, daring any of them to speak.

“Of _course_ I care about her!” He shouted, voice cracking despite his best efforts. “ _I’m_ the one who found her! _I_ invited her to join the Guild! _I_ showed her the ropes! _I_ helped her when no one else even glanced her way!”

He glowered down at them, noting with a brief bout of satisfaction that they slightly shrank away from him. Sighing, he felt the anger flee from him in waves, suddenly replaced with a blazing determination.

“I’m going to find her,” he murmured, more to himself than his friends. “I will _always_ find her.”


	2. Confessions of a Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brynjolf finds Colrina.

A blizzard whipped around the mountain, full of wind and cold and sleet. Colrina trudged her way through the snow and mud that led up to the monastery, fingers frozen near the point of frostbite. The imposing walls of High Hrothgar were for once a welcome sight. True, they promised years’ worth of secrets, but they also promised warmth and shelter from the weather. The cold never truly vanished from the stone, but anything was better than being outside. And if the Greybeards could spare a hot meal, Colrina would gladly set aside all complaints. 

She trotted up the steps, leather boots heavy and full of water. The doors creaked when she heaved them open, having nearly been frozen shut. Colrina carefully closed them. This time of night, the Greybeards were likely asleep. She didn’t want to disturb them. She could just as easily find food and a bed by herself.

The warmer air inside the monastery felt like a blessing from the Divines. Darkness, save for the firelight from the braziers, flowed throughout the central room. Shadows danced with one another along the walls. The sight was comforting, oddly enough. By all rights, it should have seemed foreboding, considering that shadows typically meant frostbite spiders or necromancers or draugr. She’d dealt with those monsters too many times to count—and enough that she no longer felt jumpy at silhouettes lining the stone walls. And besides: she wasn’t inside an ancient Nord tomb or an abandoned fort; she was in High Hrothgar—and she was safe.

To her surprise, Arngeir stood by one of the braziers, seemingly deep in thought. He didn’t look up when she approached, nor did he appear surprised that she was there. “Dragonborn,” he greeted, voice tinged with something undecipherable. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

 _I think you already know_ , Colrina thought, but said: “I’m ready.” 

At this, Arngeir lifted his head and met her eyes studiously, calculatingly. A few months ago, she would’ve flinched under the scrutiny, but running with the Thieves Guild had taught her a thing or two, and Arngeir had  _nothing_  on Mercer when it came to intimidation. So instead, she squared her shoulders. If he wanted to play the ‘ _so now you’ve come to your senses’_ card, she would be ready for it.

“Yes,” he murmured and looked away. “I should think you are.”

His answer surprised her. She’d been expecting him to fight her, to say something about running from her destiny. Arngeir, clearly recognizing her confusion, smiled slightly and warmed his hands over the brazier.

“You’ve come a long way from the day we met, Dragonborn.” He stared into the flames. “Accepting what fate has in store for you is never an easy task, but you’ve done it. And we’ll help you in any way we can.”

Colrina didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected support from anyone, let alone the Greybeards. They were so caught up in their ways that they rarely saw Tamriel for what it was: a steaming pile of horse manure. Or perhaps they knew exactly what went on in the world. Perhaps they simply refused to acknowledge it—easier that way. She couldn’t exactly blame them. Half the time, she wanted to shut herself away from everything and everyone, no matter how important. Bliss, however, wasn’t an option.

“Thank you, Arngeir,” she eventually murmured. “That... that means quite a bit.”

He turned to face her. “The others and I should’ve offered our support a long time ago. It pains me that we didn’t, but I suppose what’s done is done.” He sighed and stepped away from the brazier. “I trust you know where Alduin is hiding?” 

“Sovngarde.” Colrina barely suppressed a shudder. “Paarthurnax told me everything... and that we’ll need Odahviing’s help.” 

Arngeir stroked his beard. “I’ve never seen anyone go to Sovngarde uncalled before,” he admitted. “You must understand... there’s no guarantee you’ll come back.”

“I’ve already made my peace.”  _Divines, have I ever._  “I’m ready. All I need is when and where to call Odahviing.” 

She must’ve looked as exhausted as she felt, for Arngeir shook his head. “It can wait until morning, Dragonborn. For now, get some food and rest. I’ll have Master Borri prepare you a hot meal. You’ve earned it.”

* * *

Two hours saw Colrina warming herself by one of the many fire pits, venison stew in one hand, a warm piece of bread in the other. She’d changed out of her soaked armor and into some dry robes, the material soft to the touch. She stared into the flames, watching the wood sizzle and sparks fly into the air. In a short amount of time, she would be on her way to confronting Alduin. The World Eater. The Bringer of the End Times. And if she failed? Tamriel—Nirn—would cease to exist. 

“You have a visitor, Dragonborn.” Arngeir’s voice cut into her thoughts like a dagger. “He claims he’s a friend of yours.”

 _I don’t have any friends,_  Colrina thought, remembering the Guild.  _Not anymore._

But curiosity outweighed her reason, and she told Arngeir to show him in.

The first thing she noticed was a black hood, covered in buckles and straps that matched the rest of his armor. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she realized that she knew who he was, even before he lowered the hood.

“Leave us,” she commanded the Greybeard, and he nodded before exiting the room. 

Admittedly, she didn’t want to talk to Brynjolf at the moment, but whether it was because she was afraid or because she simply didn’t know what to say escaped her. As she stood there, one pale, calloused hand resting on her hip, the other raking through her hair, Colrina waited for him to begin. 

He took his time, opening his mouth to say something, then closing it, apparently deciding on something else. Finally, however, he moved a hesitant step toward her, footsteps lithe, but somehow heavy at the same time. 

“Col,” he started, and only then did she realize that—by the Divines— _she wasn’t ready for this._

“Save it, Brynjolf,” she responded wearily. “I can’t do this right now.”

He flinched, and Colrina could only guess that it was because of the use of his full name, of the severity of the situation, of just how broken he’d allowed their relationship to become. Sighing, she felt all the fight flee from her in waves. She couldn’t take being angry anymore. Divines’ sake, she couldn’t take  _anything_  anymore. Telling him to leave crossed her mind—she knew he would honor her wishes—but what would  _that_  accomplish? They would just end up right back at the beginning, perhaps even worse than that, and Colrina hated the endless cycle in which they’d found themselves stuck.

“Just...” She backtracked, shutting her eyes briefly before meeting his. “We need to figure this out...  _Now.”_

He cleared his throat. “Aye, Lass. I couldn’t agree more.” 

She thought about running again. Running and never looking back. But she’d been fleeing from her problems—her emotions—all her life. She couldn’t do it anymore.

“What are we, Bryn?” She finally managed, a few stray tears leaking out of her eyes despite her best efforts. “Because I  _need_  to know. I can’t keep pretending like everything’s normal. And I can’t...” She took a deep breath. “I can’t keep  _lying.”_

“Neither can I.” Brynjolf walked toward her, hesitant at first, but then stronger until he finally reached her. “I’m sorry, Col. For everything. I never should’ve pushed you away.” 

She wiped at her eyes. “I never should’ve lied... about being the Dragonborn. I just...” She shook her head. “I thought I was protecting you... and myself. Because no matter what, I  _have_  to fight Alduin... and there’s no guarantee I’ll come out of it alive.” 

Her words pained him; she could read his face as easily as her favorite book. Without saying anything else, Brynjolf pulled her into his arms, holding her as if she was the only thing keeping him from Oblivion. Colrina melted into his embrace. For once, she felt safe, the whole ordeal with Alduin seeming far away. She knew it wouldn’t last—it never did—but for the moment, it was enough.

“I love you,” she murmured, pulling away to look him in the eye, and he rested his forehead against hers. 

“And I you, Colrina... I always will. No matter what happens.”


End file.
